Fleur de Nuit: On Hiatus
by Auyreon Tighren
Summary: A secret past. A forbidden love. Hidden scars. Dark obssessions. A man and a woman seemingly destined to love but will their pasts destroy their future? EOW. Het. 1st PhanPhic! Please R and R!
1. Chapter 1: Marked by the Devil

_**Disclaimer:** All characters with the exception of Erik belong to me.  
Erik is loosely based on the Joel Schumacher movie, Gaston Leroux's original work and Susan Kay's Phantom.  
__Please review if you can. Thanks! _

**Part One**

**Chapter One**

_A small village between Paris and Rouen. 1772. _

His breaths sobbed out as he ran sightlessly as fast as his thin little legs could carry him. He could still hear her pounding feet and screaming insults behind him, but could not overcome his terror enough to glance behind to check how close she was. Blinded by hot tears and lungs burned agonisingly but terror drove him on as he knew that if she caught him, his present pain would be only a mere fraction of what she could inflict upon him.

"Revenir ici! Frai du diable!"

Madame's shriek of fury was closer than he had thought and suddenly the tiny child felt a stabbing pain pierce his head and he felt his world dimming as he started to fall. A grim resignation filled the little boy as his deadened mind accepted that he would not escape another brutal beating and his eyes closed in stoic defeat, awaiting the first of the storm of punches, kicks, slaps and pinches that would mark his diminutive body further. He noted wearily that he was too dizzy from the blow to his head to be able to regain his balance and flee, so he allowed himself to fall without making any attempt to brace his body against the hard earth and loose cobblestones. Perhaps the fall would render him unconscious and he would be spared a few moments of pain…

His eyes jerked open when he felt strong wiry arms sweeping him up, a split second before his head would have slammed on the ground. Automatically, he blinked upward, trying to see his rescuer but was blinded by the bright afternoon light and tears.

"Merci beaucoup, Monsieur Fournier!" cried Madame as she hurried importantly near them. "I apologise that you were disturbed by this little demon. I will take him now and punish him well for troubling you!"

The 'little demon' bowed his head tiredly, knowing that his beating would be doubly brutal now as his aunt had latched onto another excuse to 'purify his soul'.

"You will do no such thing!"

Both the aunt and nephew stared in shock at Mon. Fournier's furious directive and the elder recovered her wits swiftly enough to stammer her disbelief.

"Monsieur! You don't understand! He is a demon!" as she reached over and cruelly pulled his hair back to reveal the crude leather demi-mask. She snatched the mask away before anyone could react and the boy tensed and waited silently for the inevitable exclamations of horror and disgust. The thin little body coiled up in readiness of the imminent arrival of a hard tumble after the monsieur digested the sight before him.

"Look! He has been marked by the devil!"

The child heard the quick indrawn breath of the gentleman who was still cradling him as the Monsieur's eyes widened at the grotesque features which had given the village freedom to torment him with impunity.


	2. Chapter 2: Astonishment

**Chapter Two**

Monsieur Frederic Fournier stared in barely concealed grim shock as he gazed upon the misshapen features that ruined the upper right side of the child's face. There was a certain bluish and translucent quality in the pinched hairless skin that pulled down slightly the boy's eye but it was the entire lack of a right nostril was the largest cause of the child's misfortune. The monsieur then quickly noted that the twisted eye was of a colour which could only be compared to the vivid and slightly golden shimmering green of a Peridot and that it and its twin was framed by long thick lashes.

He continued with quick inventory as he observed that the nose which lacked a nostril was very fine and straight and the child also possessed full rosebud lips which were admittedly very pale and drawn at the moment.

"You are the devil, Madame!" gritted out Mon. Fournier as he tightened and shifted his grip on the almost amusingly stunned child to a more comfortable position. "How dare you brutalise a child!"

"B-but M-monsieur! He is the spawn of the devil! He…"

The gentleman glared coldly the stuttering woman and wrathfully augmented his earlier statements. "He is merely a child who has unfortunate facial blemishes but you, _Madame,_ is the evil one to torture a defenceless bébé!" The Monsieur continued scornfully along this vein until he rendered the woman completely speechless with shock, anger and perhaps, hopefully, a little shame. When he saw that he had made his point clear to the creature, Mon. Fournier finished his verbal flagellation by informing her that he never wanted to observe such behaviour from her again and if he ever heard even a breath of news reporting her abuse of the child he would make it his pleasure to give her a taste of the same then placing her in a nice gaol to give her time to consider her sins, and would also consider it a privilege to offer the same reward to any other abuser of children.

It was impossible to decide who was more astonished… Madame du Bois or her young much-abused nephew! They both stared in utter astonishment at Monsieur Fournier, who was now negligently inspecting the bump at crown of the boy's head, seemingly unaware of the shock he had given them. The aunt recovered first. The good monsieur watched quietly as she shut her gaping mouth and turned a very unattractive shade of puce. She glared poisonously at them as she spun her bulk away from them as she stormed away as much as a very bovine-like woman could.


	3. Chapter 3: Bandages and Bonbons

**Chapter Three**

"Are you all right, enfant?" Frederic lifted his pale slender fingers to brush away a tangled lock of hair from the stunned little face before him. He carefully probed within the sweaty mass of wavy sun-streaked locks for injury, stilling quickly when he felt the tiny body quiver. Frederic silently let loose with a few well chosen oaths as he tried to soothe the boy.

"O-oui, monsieur…" stammered the child as he gazed slightly wild-eyed and uncomprehendingly at his unexpected rescue from another brutal punishment. "Merci beaucoup…No one has ever helped me before…" The monsieur's face went tight and pale with fury and he automatically cringed as far away as he could in response.

"Je suis désolé, petite…I did not mean to frighten you." Frederic deliberately made his tone soft and light as not to startle the child. It was obvious that the boy had suffered much and was accustomed to harsh treatment. He could not decide which angered him more. Forcibly dragging his thoughts away from murder and mayhem, he turned to a more pressing matter.

"Let us go and inspect your head more carefully. I suspect that you shall need some tending", striding purposefully towards the village's best inn, ignoring the mewling protests and assurances of complete health.

* * *

"Madame Morel!" called out Frederic as he carried the boy to the only private salon the inn had to offer, and deposited the child in the daybed near the tiny room's largest window. He bade the pale and silent child to await him and went to the door where he was met by the innkeeper's plump wife.

"Madame…I require hot water and some bandages, _si vous plait_" ordered Frederic as he bounded up the stair to his rooms. "Please bring to them to my _salon_ right away." Without waiting to hear her response he disappeared into his rooms and snatched up a few bottles from a beautifully carved box he kept locked up in his valise. He hesitated as he passed his dresser and impulsively grabbed a small sack, stuffing it into his coat pocket.

"Ah…enfant…" said Frederic as he placed the various bottles onto the little table near the chaise, "Now, we shall do something about that bump on your head." Frederic sat next to the pale, stiff child and shifted his long tapered fingers gently into the sweaty strands, searching for the wound. "Where is that water?" he muttered irritably when a knock was heard from the door. "Took her long enough …Entrez!"

Madame Morel bustled importantly with the bandages as the inn's only maid, Jeanne, carrying a basin of steaming water, trailed sullenly in her wake.

"Merci, Madame Morel. Just place everything on the table please" instructed Frederic as he continued probing for more contusions. "Ah…Merci beaucoup, Jeanne. Please bring the water here," The little maid perked up as she coquettishly swanned her way to the young, attractive and _rich_ monsieur. She puffed out her miniscule bosom as she made a show of placing the basin _just-so_ next to the bottles. Turning expectantly around, Jeanne saw who it was the monsieur was tending to and gave a piercing shriek.

"Le Bon Dieu ! Le enfant de démon ! Madame!"

"Fermez le bouche!" snapped Monsieur Fournier as he tried to soothe the cringing child who was trying to disappear into a corner of the chaise.

Madame Morel ordered the shrieking maid to hush and shooed her out of the room. She returned quickly and stood nervously at the doorway, watching Monsieur Fournier gently cleaning the demon-child's wound.

"You wish to say something, Madame?" said Frederic glancing up irritably.

The good Madame nodded slightly and Frederic imperiously replied that he would tend to her later. Madame Morel lingered awhile longer, shooting nervous glances at the child and the monsieur, until she finally huffed out an anxious breath and swung away to the kitchen.

The little boy had not looked up the entire time the women were in the room and was still staring fixedly at Frederic's coat buttons. The child tried to calm himself down as the gentlest touch he had ever experienced smoothed his hair away from his wound and was dabbing a warm moist cloth at the dried blood that had clotted around it. The monsieur was muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "femmes stupides" but the boy wisely did not say anything to distract his saviour's annoyed mumblings.

"What is your name, enfant?"

The boy's head shot up and the monsieur's concerned face swam murkily in front of his eyes.

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Frederic as he watched the child's pale little face turn an alarming shade of green. "Lie down at once!" he ordered whilst pushing the boy gently against the plump cushions. Frederic hurried over to the table, returning to hold a cup against the child's lips.

"Here drink this slowly" he instructed as he carefully tipped the cup against the boy's mouth. "Can you do it?" and the child began to nod, then thought better of it and whispered the affirmative shakily. Frederic passed him the cup and rooted in his coat pocket, coming up triumphantly with a little sack.

"Here…Open your mouth" and when the child obeyed, Frederic quickly popped a little round lump into it. He watched in amusement as the child's eyes widened in surprised pleasure and then began sucking with voracious happiness on the bonbon.

"Not too many now…You don't want to make yourself sick" cautioned Frederic as he passed the boy the bag of mixed candies.

"Oui, monsieur. Merci beaucoup!" Frederic watched as the boy clutching the bag as though he held some sacred treasure and felt rush of sad certainty that no one had ever given the child anything before. Sighing inwardly, he turned to his various bottles and examined them critically as he tried to decide which would be best.

"Erik."


	4. Chapter 4: Erik Brighteyes

_This the last update until around the 16th of November, because I'm suffering my final exams ! (swoons)  
Cheer me up and write me a review! Thanks!_

**Eric Brighteyes**, an eponymous epic Viking saga was written by English novelist, H. Rider Haggard and was first published in 1890. Before this novel was written, the name Eric was very uncommon in European (especially French and English) society and according to some statistics, the name Eric (or the French equivalent, Eriq) is currently still rare in French society.  
_I have disregarded the actual date of publication for the sake of the story/plot and in attempts to create a history for our darling Erik._

**Chapter Four**

"What?" Frederic turned inquiringly and looked at the boy. "Pardonnez-moi. I did not hear what you said".

The boy looked at his hero shyly and told him his name.

"Erik…Hmmm…I like it…" Frederic murmured contemplatively. "It is not French?"

"Non, Monsieur."

"Interesting…How did a little French boy get a Scandinavian name?"

Erik looked confused for a second and haltingly said, "My…papa…named me, I think."

Frederic looked at him silently and the child continued saying, "I think ma mere mentioned that my papa was an English seigneur and he named me after a character from a book he liked."

"_Eric Brighteyes_."

The boy gasped and cried delightedly, "Oui! That is it! How did you know, monsieur?"

"My papa is English also and he used to read it to us."

"Ah…My father did not do so." Erik confided matter-of-factly, "Ma mere said that my papa died when I was born. I was too much of a shock for him."

Frederic gazed at the oblivious child in mute shock. _How could any mother be so cruel totheir child?_

Suddenly struck by suspicion, Frederic decided to confirm his guess.

"Erik…Enfant…Why was that woman chasing you?"

"Oh…Tante du Bois? She was angry that I went near the bébé."

"Bébé? Your tante can still have children at her age?"

The seven year-old giggled at that and replied "Non, non! She is ma soeur".

His expression changed suddenly to fright and he stammered out "Well…not ma soeur…my half-sister. My mother married her father and they have two children." Erik continued frozenly, speaking as though by rote, "They are my mother's children, not my brother and sister. Tante du Bois said so."

Without looking at Frederic, Erik expounded by saying "Ma mere married Maire le Roux a few years ago and they have two children, Rene Yves and Anne-Marie. Ma mere likes them better than me because they are pretty and do not have to wear a mask. The Mayor also did not die because they are not cursed." He finally looked up to somewhere around Frederic's chin.

"I did not mean to make Tante angry…I just wanted to see ma mere and the new bébé, Anne-Marie. But Maman saw me and screamed." Frederic looked down and saw a single tear get caught at the edge of the mask's eye opening. "I didn't mean hurt them. I'm sorry."

Frederic was speechless. He could not think of anything he could possibly say to help this poor wounded child. He cleared his throat and warily decided to make an effort at comfort.

"Erik Brighteyes, you did not do anything wrong. Your Maman and Tante du Bois has just misunderstood you." Frederic cleared his throat again, in consternation of his ineloquence; wanting to say more to console the hopeful eyes raised to his, but afraid of providing false hopes and trite platitudes. "Well now…We shall talk of happier things. Have more bonbons while I fix your head."

Erik smiled sweetly at him and bent his head to ruminate over which candy to eat next. Frederic promised the child and himself silently that he would speak to Madame du Bois and attempt to make life more palatable for him. If that did not work, he would go to the boy's mother or even the Mayor! Maire le Roux, supposedly the most powerful man in the village, should be able to make life much easier for the little boy, not only with his family but also with the villagers. _Oui…He'll do his best to…,_ Frederic winced internally but determinedly continued his train of thought, _well…to meddle for the sake of the pauvre petit enfant. _


	5. Chapter 5: Honour and Hair Pomades

_I just couldn't resist writing this next chapter, but it will HAVE to be the last one until the 16th.  
4 papers down 11 more to go...sigh...The price you pay for an education!  
So please reward my lack of self-control andreview!  
Oh...I just wanted to ask if there was **anyone** out there who is **proficient in French**? I do not atually know much French apart from what I had picked up from my cousins and bits and pieces from books, so it would be_ _tres merveilleux if someone could correct any mistakes I had made in the former chapters and this one. Thanks so much. Sorry for the imposition!_

**Chapter Five**

Behind unusually expressionless deep brown eyes, which looked closer to black due to very fair skin, Frederic was silently amused as he remembered the various anguished and thoroughly disgusted faces that little Erik had pulled whilst he had dabbed his own special medicinal blend of oils onto the child's head. The healing properties of tea tree oil, lavender and various other oils had not impressed the boy and if he had not been a child used to instant brutal punishments for slight disobedience, Frederic was sure that Erik would have complained long and loudly. The soul of a true hedonist cowered in that boy.

He had ordered a cot to be placed in his rooms for the child and ordered Erik upstairs to rest. However, Frederic had another motive other than wanting the petit enfant to convalesce for awhile; he was going to perform a deed which he found absolutely distasteful: he was going to poke his nose into someone else's family affairs.

Outwardly calm, Frederic rolled his eyes sky-wards and muttered a quick prayer to boost his decision. Continuing his languid stroll, the young monsieur looked like a typical member of the higher classes: supercilious and the epitome of world-weary ennui. His well-cut coat and breeches hung elegantly on his slight frame, but his brown hair was tied unfashionably into a straight queue; the rakishly tilted hat saved him from being shunned by his more fashion-conscious peers. Frederic Fournier looked quite out of place in a small and very provincial country village: a somewhat small falcon in the midst of sparrows.

Arriving at his destination, he knocked on the door and presented his card to a young maid, requesting to see the Maire or Madame le Roux. The prettily plump maid winked at him slyly and led him to the Master's study without bothering with permission. Knocking on the door, Frederic sauntered in and apologised for his uninvited intrusion. The mayor looked up and took inventory of the young gentleman's expertly cut clothes that put to shame anything _he_ owned and jovially invited Frederic to join him for a little cognac, all the while enviously coveting the gleaming boots, gorgeously embroidered waistcoat and obviously expensive coat. Frederic nodded slightly in acceptance and Etienne le Roux noted superiorly that _his_ hair was obviously, by far, more au courant than his new rival's. Why the boy's hair had nary a curl in it, while his hair had been gorgeously teased into fat and tight sausage curls at the side of each temple! Feeling much more in charity with his obviously not-so-worthy rival, he happily patted his painstakingly arranged coiffure and decided to assist this clearly unfortunate young man.

Frederic sampled his cognac carefully as he watched his host take hearty gulps of the inferior spirits. He studied the podgy mayor carefully and wondered how he should best approach the subject. Putting down his glass with a slight snap, he gathered his determination and decided to plunge straight into it. Looking straight at the Mayor for the first time, Frederic opened his mouth and exclaimed:

"Le bon Dieu! Your hair!" staring in shock at the frizzy clumps which puffed out astoundingly out at each side of the Maire's round head. Frederic nearly bit his tongue in annoyance of its unruliness as he knew that he had committed a grave faux pas, as one did not insult one's host, especially when their compliance was needed. He was just about to stammer out an apology when the mayor interrupted him.

"Ah…You have noticed my beautiful hair," patting his oily tresses delightedly, le Roux beamed at the dumbstruck Frederic who smiled back rather shakily at the oblivious man. "I don't normally do this…No, in fact, I have NEVER done so, but I shall share with you my secret for creating glorious curls such as mine. I only do this as I believe that men of fashion of _our_ calibre must help each other to reach _perfection_!" The rotund little man paused and smiled slyly.

"You might have guessed that my secret is my pomade. Ah…but the true secret is what is _in_ my special pomade. No one knows; not even my valet. I have never trusted anyone with this secret, so you are undergoing a great honour." He looked around the room cautiously and decided that there were no spies present wanting to steal his precious recipe. Still, he lowered his voice just in case that _bricole,_ Claude Bernard, was lurking around somewhere; that villain had been trying to steal his formula for years!

In a whisper, he told Frederic "The special ingredient is egg whites. But not just any egg whites…You must get the egg whites of duck eggs and the egg must only be a light cream colour. If not you will never achieve such a spectacular result as mine." He smiled complacently and suddenly a look of horror came unto his face. "Under no circumstances use poulet eggs! You will not be at all successful in shaping your curls."

"Mer…merci, Monsieur le Maire. I am grateful for your trust. I shall carry the secret of your formula to my grave," said Frederic, just managing to keep a straight face. "And I promise to never use chicken eggs in my hair."

"Good man, good man. Now what can I do for you today? I do not think that my hair pomade is _that_ well-known as I have tried to keep it a secret as much as I can. Was there something else that you came to see me for?"

"Oui, monsieur. The hair pomade was an unexpected honour, I would never have dreamed to have gained such privilege, to receive such a treasure. I am undone. I feel I cannot speak to you about what had disturbed me. You have done so much already."

The mayor waved away Frederic's effusive thanks with the air of royalty, clearly delighted with him. Frederic smiled inwardly, feeling slightly sorry that he was fooling the man, but clearly this was the best way to gain his assistance for le petite Erik; he needed to appeal to the Mayor's pride and vanity. After assuring Frederic that he would do all in his power to aid him and motioning for him to continue, Etienne settled himself comfortably in his chair and reached again for his cognac.

"Well, today I was extremely disturbed when I saw a young boy being horribly abused by a large woman and my delicate sensibilities as a gentleman could not stand to see such horror that I intruded. I'm sure a gentleman such as you can understand my motivations. As you have mentioned, we are men of similar calibre." The mayor beamed at him and agreed quickly.

"I came to you as I had found out that you were the most powerful man in the village and I was sure that you are the type of gentleman that protects all those under his rule, even those, _non_, especially those who cannot protect themselves. You were merely unaware of that such an atrocity was occurring."

"Oui!" The mayor banging a fist against the arm of his chair, "I shall not let this act go unpunished! I shall protect this innocent child from that _horrible_ woman!"

"Ah, merveilleux! I knew that I could depend on you! My faith in you has been rewarded. I am sure your resolution to do the right thing could only be strengthened when I tell you that the child in question is apparently your step-son, Erik."

A look of pure horror swept across the mayor's face and he opened his mouth to protest.


	6. Chapter 6: Le Maire et Le Duc

_I'm bbaaacckkk! Finished my IB exams and left for home...ahhh...  
I could not update for so long as madre mia immediately roped me into being her latest charity event's technical advisor (what a joke!) and stage manager! So exhausted! But that's all over and I shall be a lot more regular in updating.  
**raoulisafop:** Thanks very much for your offer to keep an eye on my non-existent French! I really appreciate it!  
The story is likely to be quite long as it will be in several parts.  
__I'll keep writing as long as there is someone actually (hopefully) reading it!  
Much thanks to those who reviewed... You made my day!_

**Chapter Six**

'My stepson! B-b-but…Monsieur! He is…' The Maire's ruddy glow had faded into ash and his eyes were haunted by the thought of having to give an explanation to his wife about le petite Erik's intrusion into their domestic bliss; he shuddered at the imagined outpouring of delicate infuriation and fury which would indubitably rain upon his head when his precious Marguerite learns of his help of her son. He could hardly bear the thought of her being upset; she was almost as important to him as his curls.

'Oui, monsieur…I agree completely! The child is absolutely _pitiful_!' declared Frederic with deliberate obtuseness. 'We, gentlemen of the world, must lead these ignorant people into greater understanding and sympathy for the unfortunate! Our refined sensibilities would not allow us to act otherwise!'

The mayor sensed a trap closing around him, but he did not know how to extricate himself without denouncing himself as an uncultured and unkind buffoon, but the thought of his little Marguerite's upset was enough of an impetus for him to make another attempt at escape. However, before he could sputter out his convoluted rationalizations for the righteousness of his non-participation in the protection of his stepson due to various very important yet rather vague reasons, the pretty little maid popped her blushing face into the room and announced chirpily the arrival of another visitor. With suspicious haste and gratitude, the Maire gave his consent for the intrusion of another unexpected guest.

A tall and brashly handsome man strode with unconscious authority into the room and the mayor literally jumped out his chair, curls all bobbing in eager obsequiousness. 'Monsieur le duc! You honour me with your visit! What small service may I perform for you?'

'Non, non! I apologise for my intrusion, Maire. I am merely here because I had heard that Monsieur Fournier was here. Monsieur Fournier is the brother of mon bon ami, Lyon!' Monsieur le duc Jean-Luc Girard turned to Frederic and said 'It is such a pleasure to finally meet you. Lyon has told me much of you!'

'Non, Monsieur le duc! The pleasure is all mine. But, please disregard whatever my brother has told you as it is all lies! I, on the other hand, has heard nothing but praise from my brother about you. Thank you so much for looking after him, I am certain that it was quite tiring!' laughed Frederic. The two young man dissolved in shared amusement and knowledge about the much maligned Lyon's various escapades.

'Ah…Oui! I am sorry, Monsieur le Maire. It was rude of us to prattle on thus', apologised Frederic with a slight smile on his face as fond memories of his brother lingered.

'Non...non! I completely understand! I had not realised that you knew our estimable Duke!' The round little mayor was completely awestruck by the rapport between his young guest and one of the most powerful and richest men in France. His mind clambering to find ways to curry favour from so important an individual, Etienne le Roux eagerly tried to impress upon the duke the close friendship _he_ had with young Fournier. 'You should have said so! I would have immediately sent word to Monsieur le duc that you were here and invited him to join our tête-à-tête if he wished to do so!'

'Non…I had arrived slightly earlier than expected to meet with Monsieur Fournier here. Ah…Frederic, I have already asked Madame Morel to prepare your belongings to be conveyed to my estate. You need only check that she did not miss anything.'

'Merci beaucoup, Monsieur le duc! I will not take long to do so, as I did not bring much with me on this trip.'

'Bon, bon! We shall be able to leave tonight then. But please call me Jean-Luc or Luc as Lyon does! We are almost family as I feel we share a brother! ' Jean-Luc, then frowned thoughtfully and said 'For now, please don't let me keep you from your talk! I did not realise you knew anyone from the area!'

'I had only just met le Maire today! He was kind enough to grant me an audience when I intruded so rudely upon his door! I wanted to bring to his attention a disgusting incident of abuse which I had witnessed earlier… A little child was being attacked for merely having the misfortune to be physically imperfect!' Frederic enunciated hotly, bristling with anger again with the memory of tiny Erik's sad resignation to pain and fear.

'Ah… You are just like Lyon! Always wanting to save the world… That's how many of his little mishaps start out! It is quite admirable…' The duke turned to the mayor and said with a tinge of irony, 'It is very good of you to protect every member of the village, no matter what their position.'

'Oui, oui!' agreed Frederic enthusiastically, 'The mayor did not even realise that the boy in question was his stepson, Erik, when he declared that he would not rest until the child was protected from all future abuse!'

'Really…' drawled the duke as he studied the mayor's barely concealed expressions of dismay as the fat little man grasped the fact that he could not possibly refuse to take action for Erik now without alienating Monsieur Fournier and ultimately his _brother_, the Duke!

'O-oui… Oui! I had agreed to help the boy as best I can! I shall put the word around that none is allowed to hurt the child.'

Frederic beamed at him approvingly and said 'Ah, tres bien! But that is not enough! The child must live with you and receive an education! Through my conversation with him, I have come to the realisation that the boy is unusually intelligent and discerning for one so young. You must encourage him and help him develop his genius! The boy will undoubtedly do you proud! The old bat he is residing with at the moment will not be at all beneficial to the child.'

Etienne lost all vestiges of colour at Frederic's words and stammered out that his wife would never allow it! Frederic and the duke received his exclamation impassively and the Maire quickly grasped the fact that he was very close to losing their positive regard.

'B-but…I'll speak to her and explain to her why the child must reside with us', spluttered the mayor in desperation as he saw his dream of mingling with the crème-de-la-crème nobility drifting away.

'Ah…Merci beaucoup, Monsieur le Maire. I just knew that you were a man of great empathy and honour. I have no doubt that you will do the right thing.'


	7. Chapter 7: A Mother's Love

_The Chorister school is located in Durham, England and its student population consists of students aged 4-13. Its creation dates back to the 1400s and it originally educated the Durham Cathedral's choir boys aged from 8-20. _

**Chapter Seven**

'Ce qui! Non! I cannot believe you have suggested such a thing! You know my feelings about that boy!' shrieked Marguerite at her paling husband. 'You know that I cannot bear to be near him!'

The mayor looked with her quizzically and with no little trepidation but nonetheless held onto his determination to please the King's (current) favourite duke. 'B-but he's your son… How can you dislike him? You're his la mere… You _must_ have some feelings of care for him!'

Realising her mistake, Marguerite quickly replied whilst dabbing her lace handkerchief to her artfully tearing eyes, 'Of course I c-care for the boy… It is because I care so much for him that I cannot have him near me.'

'Etienne… You know how the child is such a reminder of my g-great l-loss…' Marguerite peeped out from behind her handkerchief, certain that her womanly wiles and feminine fragility would have convinced her husband into keeping the disgusting brat away from her. How dare he imply that she wasn't a good mother! She absolutely adored her two _beautiful_ little angels, Rene Yves and Anne-Marie. _They_ had her golden curls and big blue eyes, though they both had their father's rather protuberant and frog-like eyes. But she, Marguerite, loved them so much she forgave them these flaws and did not look directly at their faces when their nanny brought them in for their daily inspection. She could not bear ugliness around her! It was a good thing her husband did not demand much of her time and attention, otherwise she would not have been able to bear marrying him despite the promise of his wealth.

The flaws of that _thing_ on the other hand was so horrendous and impossible to conceal that she could not bear the thought that such a _monstrosity_ had sprung from her womb. To have him be in the same house would be a constant reminder of her failure in maintaining perfection. She did not need to be humiliated by reminders in her one lapse in flawlessness. And what if that…that… _thing's_ ugliness was contagious! She did not want to expose herself to such a chance. Her Maman had always warned her that she must not look at ugly objects as they would ruin her looks. Exposure to unattractiveness would definitely mar her beauty! Just look at Margeaux! Her sister was once fairly pretty (though never as ravishingly beautiful as she, Marguerite!) but once she had married that Pierre du Bois, Margeaux's looks were destroyed! Serves her right though! Her sister had dared try to lord it over her by marrying the former richest man of the county! How she had laughed when her brother-in-law was bankrupted through his wild spending of the inheritance left to him by his father. When Pierre was still rich, her only consolation was the fact that her sister's husband was singularly unattractive with his frizzy _red_ hair and large hooked nose! Maman's early teachings were substantiated when Margeaux started growing so _fat_ after her marriage and after the bankruptcy her hideousness was exacerbated through the rapid emergence of wrinkles and the oh-so _coarse_ redness of the lower classes! Marguerite glanced quickly at a mirror, and barely resisted smiling when she noted her pale and fine complexion. Marguerite's attention was removed from her appreciation of her attractiveness when Etienne responded to her apparent female delicacy.

'Ma pauvre chéri… I completely understand…However I must insist as Monsieur le Duc d'Auvergne has taken an interest in the boy and my honour as a gentleman is at stake! You know as well as I that Monsieur le duc has immense power in society and one word from him and the best doors will be closed against us forever!' Marguerite paled and stared horrified at her husband; it could not be true! She was not being left with the horror of being under the same roof with that little monster! Her sly little mind raced furiously as she tried to find a way to find a way out if this predicament.

'Why has our Monsieur le duc suddenly taken an interest in the poor child?' asked Marguerite with saccharine sweetness. 'Though I am not surprised that a man of his power and excellence has done so…'

The underlying edge to her query completely escaped her husband as he enthusiastically outlined that afternoon's events. Marguerite was furious! Her stupid cow of a sister was completely to blame for this debacle! Marguerite ignored the fact that it was under her own orders that the boy was to be kept far away from her children. She bitterly swore retribution as Marguerite realised that it was all but impossible to keep ignoring the child's existence without seeming uncaring and selfish.

Suddenly, a way out of this situation fâcheuse struck her; she tilted her head coyly and said:  
'I have always known that the child was intelligent. It is no wonder that Monsieur le duc has noticed the boy. '

'We must send him to his father's old school in England… What was that name? Lorister? Collister? Non… non! I remember now! Chorister! '

'An Anglais school?'

'My dear late husband had une mère Anglaise who insisted on his being educated in England. I think he would have wanted his son to be educated in his old school.'

'Oui…That is a wonderful idea, ma chère…We will be able to send him there immediately after the summer holidays. In the meantime we can begin by getting him a tutor for his English.'

Marguerite stared at him in horror. She had completely forgotten that the schools were all on holidays. Merde! She would have to let the little demon into her home for awhile then; there seemed no way to avoid it!

'Ah chere… We shall _have_ to make a little visit to Monsieur le duc's estate to tell him of our decisions!'


	8. Chapter 8: Un Dîner et Une Interrogation

_The duchy of Auvergne (which had become essentially autonomous) became part of the Royal domain upon the succession of Louis XIII (1601-1643) until 1757 when it was given to Louis XV's grandson and the son of Louis ,dauphin de France who never reigned, **Charles-Phillip**. It became part of his apanage, which is a portion of the demesne of the Crown which is given by the sovereign to a younger son. Charles was commonly referred to as the Comte d'Artois. He later became Charles X, King of France and Navarre after his brother was executed during the French revolution. _

_For the sake for the plot and Jean-Luc, I have stolen his duchy his duchy from Charles. :)_

_Review please!_

**Chapter Eight**

'Monsieur le duc! Dreadfully sorry for the intrusion but I had thought that you and Monsieur Fournier would want to hear of our plans of the boy...'

'Oh…Monsieur le duc! We meet at last! I had heard so many wonderful things about you. And to think that you have taken interest in… Oh, you are too kind!' interrupted Marguerite abruptly.

The maire beamed indulgently at his coy little wife and said 'Your grace… Allow me to introduce my wife, Marguerite. As you see, she was ecstatic that someone of your stature deigned to notice our lowly family.'

'Not at all, not at all… Would you and Madame like to join us for dinner? We were just about to begin' murmured the duke with faintly amused smile on his face.

'Oh, très désole Monsieur le duc! Please do not allow us to interrupt you from your dinner! Thank you so much for your invitation! We are honoured to join you' breathed the mayor with such ingenuousness that Marguerite looked at her husband in surprised admiration. If she didn't know better, she would never suspect that they had not planned the timing of their arrival so painstakingly. A chance to visit a duke of such power and status (and good looks!) did not come every day!

* * *

'Ah, Monsieur le Maire…Good to see you again. Have you come to join us for dinner?' 

'Monsieur Fournier! A pleasure… Monsieur le duc had so graciously invited us to join you for dinner. We had actually come to tell you of our plans for the child!'

'Oui, oui! Tres bien! Do you know if le petite Erik is better? I had arranged for a nurse to take care of him while he recuperates in Madame Morel's establishment. He should be quite comfortable; he has my old rooms and the salon… Have you gone to see him yet? I had planned to go visit the child tomorrow…or have you taken him back home with you?'

'Ah…non… My wife…Marguerite….'

'I was not well and my husband could not bear to leave my side, so we had not had the chance to visit the poor unfortunate child!' cried out Marguerite, afraid that her hapless husband might blurt out that she had refused to go near the child and had also forbidden the rest of the household from doing so…

'Mmm…oui…oui…You must, of course, take care of yourself!' filled in Jean-Luc after a slight uncomfortable pause when Frederic merely stared at the maire's wife with slightly disbelieving eyes. Jean-Luc gave Frederic a swift look and reminded him to carry on wearing the façade of social niceties. Frederic stiffened and turned towards Marguerite with a banal murmur of commiseration on his lips.

Sensing the unexpected guests' tension, the duke expertly turned the topic to far more frivolous matters. The maire and his wife were so charmed by his attention and clever banter that they did not realise that their characters and psyches were being adeptly revealed and assessed by an increasingly contemptuous duke and a silently raging Frederic.

Frederic pulled his thoughts away consciously from his great distaste for the very flirtatious Marguerite and decided that he would have to do something about the situation. Le bon Dieu! What has the world come to! How can a person so committed against interfering in other people's affairs become so ready to be sucked in and embroiled in another's family matters? But how could a mother show such a blatant lack of feeling for her own child? Her weak excuses were so easily disposed of that Frederic could find no way of escape from his feelings of responsibility for le petite bébé, Erik…

He sighed and opened his mouth to utter the words that would officially turn him into a certified curieux! Oh… how the mighty has fallen! A person who used to pride himself on being cool and uninterested observer has descended into becoming a nosy and interfering imbécile!


	9. Chapter 9: Pouvez vous parler Anglais?

**_I'll try to update once more this Christmas weekend, but no promises as my relativeswill beall converging onto my house!  
I'll likely not update next week as I'll be heading off to Hong Kong for the New Year...Whoo!  
Anyway...  
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone!  
_**

**Chapter Nine**

'Monsieur…Madame… To bring the conversation back to le petite Erik… I was wondering if you had already engaged the Anglais tutor mentioned earlier?'

The Maire glanced swiftly at his wife and replied, 'Non… We had only finalised our plans for him last night. We had not had the time to look for one as yet.'

'Ah, merveilleux!' Frederic turned to Luc and apologised ruefully, 'Je suis très désolé, but I had a déballage d'idées… A sudden brainstorm! What do you think about allowing the child to come here for the summer before he goes to school? The child needs to be exposed to Anglais at all times in order for him to be able to cope with his lessons and I know very well that you speak very excellent English and I am quite proficient myself!'

Marguerite's eyes gleamed with glee as she dreamed of the frequent visits she could now make with the boy as her excuse…Hah! Finally there was some good coming from the little monster!

Jean-Luc's eyes gleamed with fond exasperation; Lyon and Frederic were indeed brothers, though no one would know they were related much less twins whilst looking at them… Lyon was taller than his own 6 feet 2 whilst Frederic was nearly a foot shorter! However, their characters and personalities were all too similar! Could never ignore those whom they thought needed their help…

'Ah, oui… I am surprised I did not think of this myself… My old nurse is still in residence and Fitzy is very English! She was hired by my parents when I was a child to teach me English as I was to go to Eton when I was old enough!'

'Oh… Monsieur le duc! We are greatly honoured that you would invite the child here… I am sure he will learn much from you and not only English!' enthused the Maire.

'Oui…oui! And we shall be able to visit him often as the distance is not so great!' piped in Marguerite. Luc threw an alarmed glance at Frederic, horrified at the idea of having to entertain that blatant social climber with any frequency.

'Non!' burst out Frederic, quickly performing some mental acrobatics as he searched for a plausible excuse. Even after only a few days, Luc and he had become friendly and comfortable enough with each other to drop all formal civilities between them to be completely comfortable and natural with each other. Therefore, he knew that Luc had a streak of self-centredness that ensured that his own comfort was paramount. Jean-Luc might stir himself to endure some discomfort for the sake of those he cared for, but le petite Erik was definitely not in those ranks as yet! Frederic knew he had to quickly come up with something to relieve the shock of the le Rouxs.

'That is… You must not visit the boy as he must become used to being away from his family; lest he will have suffer more from homesickness when he goes to England. I know you miss the boy greatly, but you must be strong for his sake!' exclaimed Frederic who barely managed to keep a straight face at the sight of the duke's ridiculously relieved face. The maire quickly nodded his frizzy head and agreed, while Marguerite barely managed to keep herself from screeching in rage.

Frederic smiled in satisfaction and said 'Well, that's settled then… I'll go pick the child up tomorrow afternoon as to save you another unnecessary trip here. I had forgotten a few things at the inn anyway!'

The duke smirked at Marguerite's frustrated fury and idly noted that her pretty face was not so attractive when stained with that shade of purplish-red.


	10. Chapter 10: Nervousness and Desperation

_**Part Two** **is beginning soon!** **Whoo! I had thought it would never get here...Sooo... Look out! The romance will be introduced very soon!** _

_**Review and I'll put up Chapter Eleven (written also in Hong Kong)tonight!  
**I know it's blackmail but 3 reviews in nine chapters just shrivelled my ego! _

**Chapter Ten**

The next afternoon, Frederic jumped down from one of Jean-Luc's very well appointed carriages and entered the inn to be greeted immediately by Madame Morel.

'Good-day, Madame Morel. How is our patient?'

'He is well, monsieur… He is getting impatient about resting but he is a most obedient child. He has not caused any trouble at all!' finished the innkeeper in a rather surprised tone. 'He has been asking for you, Monsieur Fournier. I think you have made an admirer there!'

Bounding up the stairs towards Erik's rooms, Frederic mentally went through how he was going to explain the proposed stay to little Erik and worried about how the child was going to take his meddling. He sighed and straightened his slight shoulders.

Knocking gently, he stepped into the room and called softly,' Enfant… It is I… Frederic Fournier… Are you awake?' He stared in surprised when the tangled bedclothes suddenly bounced upwards and tumbled unceremoniously unto the floor.

Rushing over, he started unravelling the Erik the Mummy from his make-shift bandages. After a few minutes and several yelps of pain when Frederic tugged the sheet up when it needed to go down and when it went right instead of the necessary left, the sheepish child was finally revealed.

'Are you alright? Are you hurt!'

'Non, Monsieur… I am fine.'

'Let me have a look at you anyway though!' ejaculated Frederic as he ran professional fingers over Erik's body to ascertain that there were no new hurts that he needed to tend to. Frederic brushed his slender fingers through the boy's wavy locks and gently felt for the earlier wound. 'Tres bien! You're head is much better, the bump is almost gone!'

Passing Erik a small pouch, Frederic removed a very familiar bottle from his pocket. To Erik's great disgust, Frederic proceeded to massage the ointment onto his head. Wincing, the child popped a bonbon into his mouth and ingeniously offered a piece of Frederic's bribe back to him in a vain attempt to escape the hated medicine. Frederic grinned downed at the boy and accepted the candy with his teeth, all the while keeping his massaging hands in Erik's hair.

Feeling martyred, the seven-year-old sighed and stood there with such a quietly beleaguered air that Frederic just wanted to laugh. Finishing up quickly, he made easy conversation with the child, asking him of his behaviour and convalescence.

Erik felt that this was the happiest day in his life though the ointment Monsieur Fournier was coating his head with was absolutely_horrible_! However he quickly decided that it was a small price to pay for his hero's undivided attention and nearly caressing touch. He was unused to such kindness and care, and he promised himself silently that he would be so very good that he would never lose Monsieur Fournier's benevolent regard!

A thought struck him and his heart sank! He was nearly completely healed and had no excuse to remain in the Monsieur's company. Erik felt as though he could cry… No! He must not give into tears! It was the one victory he had over those who had hurt him… He had not cried when the village boys stoned him, not a drop fell when barking dogs were set on him and he had also managed to maintain a blank expression when his beautiful maman threw the flowers he had picked for her birthday in his face. That was the last time he tried to get close to his mother. Erik finally accepted that his face made him so hideous that his mother could not bear the sight of him.

He bent his head lower, afraid that Monsieur Fournier would catch a glimpse of his mask and be reminded of his monstrous features. He had no right to expect affection, but he _so_ wanted it! He would almost do anything and be anyone for a scrap of kindness and love. Erik's mind worked desperately as he tried to find something to say or do to keep the only person who had shown him warmth and concern in his life.

'Enfant.. Would you like to come back with me to my friend's estate for the summer?'

Erik's head snapped up when the unbelievable question broke through his thoughts and he stared uncomprehendingly at his idol. Frederic took his silence as unwillingness and quickly explained his interference in getting Erik a chance of education in England that his stay would allow him to be accomplished enough in the foreign language that he would be able to communicate with ease with his future teachers and classmates. Frederic then told him that if he could really not bear the thought of leaving his family and the village, he would talk to Erik's parents again and see if other arrangements could be made.

'I am not sure if I will like to go to England yet but I would be very happy if I could stay with you and Monsieur Jean-Luc for the summer. Perhaps if I know Anglais very well, I will be happier to go!' Erik could have jumped with glee as he realised that he could live with his idol and that he would be able to see him everyday. He could not so lucky!

'You might be right… Perhaps when you are more confident in the language you will feel more ready to face England!' Frederic smiled bracingly and ruffled the boy's hair. 'I will do my best before I go to ensure that you master basic Anglais!'

'Go where, Monsieur Fournier? When are you leaving?'

'I shall be leavingEurope at the end of summer. Probably around the same time you would, should you decide to go to England….'


	11. Chapter 11: Lessons and a Race!

**_Thanks sooo much to everyone who reviewed! It makes writing this story a lot more fun and worthwhile as at least I know that there are some who are actually reading it!  
You all truly made me a very happy writer today!_**

**_There will be perhaps one or two more chapters before Part Two begins!  
Very close now...!_**

**Chapter Eleven**

'Très bien, Erik! I mean, very good!' praised Frederic as he hugged the beaming little boy to his side. 'It's amazing the way you have picked up the language in such a short space of time! It's only been a month but you're speaking almost as a native! It should be impossible to learn at such a speed!'

Erik had blossomed under the care and tutelage of Frederic, Luc and his soft-hearted nanny, Mrs Fitzwilliam or Fitzy. They treated him as though he was just another ordinary boy and once Erik realised that they were not affected by the sight of his mask or deformity, he had quickly become more natural and relaxed in their company. He was even comfortable enough to reveal a hidden mischievous streak which manifested itself through several very naughty pranks which he was promptly punished for. Erik did not mind his punishment too much as he was reassured that he had not lost their warm regard though they wanted to warm his bottom!

Erik ducked his head a little and blushingly replied: 'I think my real papa had spoken English with me, though I was very young at the time so I don't really remember… I feel as though I had forgotten the language but now that I am speaking it again, the words just jump up into my mind… Besides…It just makes sense to me… French and English are very similar… and so are Italian and German! Jean-Luc has been teaching them to me and he said that I can soon read harder books!'

Frederic smiled at him a little dazedly and patted him on the head.

'Go and tell Fitzy to let you have some tea now and later we shall go for a ride! We've been indoors all day.'

The little boy sped away. Fitzy had promised him chocolate biscuits!

* * *

'Pass me the sugar please- And can you believe the rate at which he is learning everything! He soaks it all up like a sponge! A seven-year-old child understanding the subtle nuances in literature such as Dante's Inferno and Shakespeare's Hamlet! And being able to study in four different languages! It's absolutely unbelievable!' exclaimed Frederic as he stirred his café au lait energetically. 

'Oui… He is able to acquire the languages so quickly as I feel that he has some intrinsic ability to process and understand the syntax and…' explained Jean-Luc enthusiastically and Frederic nodded without actual comprehension as Luc rhapsodized on about his new protégé.

'And not only in languages! Monsieur Dupree has reported to me that le petite Erik has been doing work for students far older! Normal seven-year-olds learn addition and multiplication but out Erik is doing advanced algebra and calculus! And Monsieur Febvre believes that Erik is to be another Mozart or Beethoven… Non!' continued Frederic in a very badly done imitation of Erik's very excitable music teacher, 'The child is a genius! He will outshine Mozart and Beethoven! Hah! Those Germans will have nothing on us now! He is perhaps even more talented than _moi_ in the pianoforte!' He finished by twirling an imaginary moustache and cackling like a rooster trying to lay an egg.

Jean-Luc stared at him in silence for a moment and said blandly:' Well… At least we know to never put you in charge of his dramatic education!'

Frederic just laughed and threw a croissant at Luc's guffawing head.

* * *

Jean-Luc and Erik galloped exuberantly across a clearing towards the nearby woods and reigned to a stop when the reached the edge of it. Waiting for the clumsily bouncing Frederic, they shared a superior grin and a silent agreement to tease their mutual friend about his riding skills and his very fat and plodding mount. 

When Frederic was within hearing distance, Luc winked conspiratorially at Erik and yelled out: 'Allons-y, Erik! Let us leave this slow old man and his mule! We, fit young men should not be held back by such sluggish creatures!'

Erik grinned and shouted for Frederic to hurry up or he would not get any chocolat for dessert!

Frederic grumbled under his breath and inexpertly prodded the very fat and lazy Champagne with his heel in a vain effort to speed up. Champagne's eyes gleamed evilly and she pretended to comply with his wishes as she sped up to a trot. Finally breaking into a canter, she bounced Frederic along in the saddle directly in the path of a low-hanging branch!

Yelping in fright, Frederic very elegantly arched his back backwards towards Champagne's rump, only to be swatted sharply with her triumphantly arched tail. Erik and Luc were almost rolling in their saddles with laughter as they watched poor Frederic struggle to slide off Champagne.

After a few awhile, Frederic finally managed to reach blessed ground and Champagne quickly bared her teeth in an attempt to leave her mark on Frederic's shoulder. Frederic spun abruptly away, glaring at that demon pig-horse with equal heat and growled menacingly back in warning. Champagne's eyes seemed to widen in surprise before she turned away to nibble at some grass nonchalantly.

'You are the absolute worse rider I have ever seen!' chortled Luc, 'One could think that you have never been on a horse before!'

'I though we were going for a ride on a curricle!' sulked Frederic. 'And I have not been on a horse before! I was never allowed as I was a ba-'

'I mean, my parents never allowed me ride as they thought it was too dangerous for me!' rebutted Frederic akwardly with a furious blush on his face.

'Your parents were right! Riding is too dangerous to your health as you couldn't even control old Champers!' jeered Jean-Luc cheekily.

'Hah! Old Champers here is a hidden devil! She tried to kill me deliberately! She must be possessed by some demonic creature!'

'Non! Old Champers is a sweet old girl…Though she is getting a bit old and fat!'

'Jesu! She is not only old and fat but also….'

Erik watched in interest as the two friends argued good-naturedly back and forth and hugged his happiness and new sense of security to himself before jumping into the conversation in order to keep the two elders from issuing silly challenges to each other to prove their superiority!


	12. Chapter 12: The Past and Presents

**_My longest chapter so far! Hope that you enjoy it!  
SVP revue! _**

**Chapter Twelve**

'Oooh! My aching body… Jean-Luc! I hold you completely responsible!' grumbled Frederic as he gingerly lowered himself onto a chair. 'I should never have listened to you!'

Erik and Luc shared a quick grin before the child turned to his long-suffering mentor and patted his arm in sympathy.

'Ouch! Don't!'

'Does it hurt that much?'

'Nom de dieu! Of course it does! That evil horse threw me out of the blasted saddle twice, ran me straight into numerous branches and bushes and also had the unmitigated gall to _bite_ me! Hah! But I showed her didn't I! That horrible creature won't be biting me again anytime soon!'

'I can't believe you _bit_ that horse back!' burst out Jean-Luc, torn between laughter and shock.

'Well…It worked didn't it?' mumbled Frederic, embarrassed that his anger had leaded him to make a fool of himself again. Lyon would be in stitches if he ever found out that he had bitten a horse in retaliation! 'Champagne behaved perfectly afterwards! No more murder attempts!'

'I'll go and get your ointments! It will help you.' Springing up of the ottoman, Erik ran up to Frederic's rooms.

Erik quickly returned to the study, grasping the small wood chest carefully.

'You'll have to help me… Luc's gone to have a bath.'

'Bien.'

Frederic began removing his coat very carefully, wincing when sharp pangs stung his neck and shoulder muscles. Erik cringed in sympathy when the mass of colourful bruises and scratches marring Frederic's back and shoulders were revealed. Frederic passed him a bottle and the boy, very gently began to dab at the wounds.

Gritting his teeth, Frederic consoled himself with mental pictures of making horse soufflé.

'Done!'

'Merci beaucoup, enfant. Could you please do my arms also? I cannot lift them at the moment.'

Erik slipped quickly to face Frederic, happy that he could do something to help his hero and he luxuriated at the freedom and comforting joy of being able to touch another human being without fear of being remonstrated with.

Tipping more of the oils into his tiny hands, Erik delicately stroked the mixture onto poor Frederic's arms.

'Tell me if I am hurting you, please.'

'Merci beaucoup, enfant. You are doing très bien!' praised Frederic, watching the soothing strokes of Erik's fingers drowsily. Grinning happily from Frederic's commendation, the child bent his head again to the task.

Eyes sharpening suddenly, Frederic's hand swooped out and plucked Erik's hand from its occupation. Studying them intently, Frederic delicately tested the little fingers and a dark frown clouded his fine brow. He had never before noticed but Erik's left hand was twisted into almost a claw. He had never made much of the fact that the boy used his right hand almost exclusively for all tasks (even those that usually required the use of two hands); not thinking that there was such a drastic explanation for Erik's favouritism.

'Does your hand hurt, Erik?'

'Non, Frederic… It only hurts sometimes.'

'What happened?'

Erik stared in him silently and as the memories flashed in his mind painfully, he murmured 'Ma mere did it… She was angry.'

Frederic's teeth clenched angrily and Erik watched as fury lit his dark eyes. Sighing, he looked down onto his tiny boots and remembered.

It was his mother's birthday. It was also the day he realised that his mother loathed him.

Five-year-old Erik had waked early that day to make the long walk to the woods in order to pick a birthday bouquet from the pretty flowers he had discovered the day before. He had been so excited at the prospect of presenting the blooms to his mother and was hopeful of gaining one of the fond smiles that he spied her giving to his half-brother. He had painstakingly chosen only the most perfect blossoms for his bouquet and when he felt that he had enough, he tied them carefully together with a strip of cloth which he had cut from his best and only other set of clothing.

Erik closed his eyes painfully as he remembered how he had hurried back to the village, clutching his precious burden. He had been so anxious to get back as he had feared that he would not make it in time to visit his mother before her party started. Obviously, he had been barred to even approach the house whilst the party was going on. He had been so relieved when he made it in enough time to be allowed admission into his mother's house.

Camille had been in her very large, frilly dressing room and he had crept quietly into the room. Waiting for his mother to notice him, he had shyly watched her applying her various lotions and paints. Wincing with the recollection of what happened after his mother finally deigned to speak to him; his mind was unwillingly pulled back to the past events. He had tripped on one of his mother's fussy rugs and his present had flown to land unceremoniously onto his mother's lap. Shrieking furiously that he was trying to ruin her dress, she ignored his tearful apologies and had just turned around to pick up the flowers. Aiming for his little face, she had thrown the bouquet as hard as she could at her eldest child. Erik was so stunned at his beloved mother's attack; he had just stood there as she began hurling her various toiletries at him. Jerking out of his stupor when a glass bottle shattered painfully against his diminutive chest, he tried to dodge away from the make-shift missiles.

Nearly howling with rage, Marguerite had snatched up her heavy silver brush and began slashing it at the cringing child. Erik had crumpled unto the floor after a particularly hard blow to his back and had curled into a tight little ball, trying as much as he could to disappear and protect himself from his mother's continued blows. Angered at his attempt to protect himself, she struck energetically a few more times at the hand Erik had curled around his head to shield it from the bashes, before screaming for her maid to throw the little monster out!

He had a fever that very night due to an infection from the numerous cuts, bruises and wounds inflicted upon him by his maman. Erik remembered how horrible he had felt and how he was not able to move. The shards from the glass bottle his mother had thrown at him were still dug deep in his tender flesh as no one bothered to nurse the 'demon', and he had not the strength as yet to clean his wounds himself. He dared not move for fear of pushing the slivers in deeper and in any case the slightest movement caused him a great deal of pain.

After the maid had thrown him out, Erik had managed to crawl back to his aunt's house and onto the hard pallet she allowed him in the attic/storeroom. No one cared enough to check on him when he did not appear for two days.

When he was finally able to keep his eyes open for more than five minutes without getting dizzy, he had finally been able to clean his wounds. Erik remembered the panic and shock he had endured when he had tried to pick out a small glass shard from his right arm and his fingers would not accommodate him. They were so swollen, but what frightened him the most was the fact that he had to concentrate hard before his left fingers would obey him and _move_!

Though his other injuries had left (thankfully) no lasting effects and not many scars, he had never been able to regain his former dexterity in his left hand. He gave up trying after awhile and started compensating for his weakness by using his good hand for all tasks.

He never willingly went near his mother again. He had finally learnt to fear her.

'It was my fault… I made her angry…I was clumsy.'

In an oddly maternal gesture, Frederic, unable to bear the acute sorrow and pain in Erik's eyes, swept the boy against his chest in a fierce hug.

'It wasn't your fault…' consoled Frederic, cuddling the shocked child. He had never been shown such affection before.

They remained in that position for awhile, waiting for the anguish and pain from the past to recede. Frederic felt Erik burrow deeper into his embrace, seeking comfort that he had never before received, and he felt his own heart ache for this lost and lonely boy. Sweet-natured, cheeky and oh-so intelligent little Erik had endured so much, _too_ much…

* * *

The next day, Erik bounded downstairs to find Frederic had disappeared and even Jean-Luc did not know where he had gone. Jean-Luc was extremely puzzled and slightly worried as Frederic was not to found anywhere on the estate and none of the vehicles were taken out. One of the mares was missing but she could have just wandered towards the far end of the paddock and Frederic was not likely to be caught dead on horseback after yesterday's debacle! 

No one remembered seeing the young monsieur leave the house and much to Erik's dismay and disgust, Jean-Luc decided that the only recourse they could take for the moment was to wait. Obediently, Erik had went for his lessons but he was so anxious about his idol's unprecedented disappearance that for the first time his tutors had cause for complaint against him. Only after a few quiet words of admonishment and reassurance from Luc, could Erik garner up sufficient concentration to do justice to the tutelage of his various very expert and expensive teachers.

After a very solemn and quiet luncheon, Jean-Luc gave the very lacklustre Erik the rest of the day off from his studies. Looking at the brooding child, he swore to strangle the missing Frederic when he finally reappeared for causing so much worry in their young charge!

He did not have long to wait as not long after their meal for the prodigal Frederic was reported to be _riding_ up to the house by a breathless footman. Erik immediately bounded to the front hall to meet him. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, Jean-Luc followed him to greet his very irresponsible friend. He meant to impress upon dear Frederic the importance of leaving word of his whereabouts; the slight young man had become worryingly important to him.

The very dusty and dirty Frederic grinned as Erik threw himself against his waist and hugged him, demanding an explanation for his disappearance and telling him of his worry. Frederic felt very happy and blessed that despite his grievous experiences, Erik still had enough courage and confidence to trust and care for him.

'Don't scold me, mon chère enfant! I went to get you some presents! I had to go to the next village for it, that's why I am so late… Ah, how have I suffered for your sake!' finished Frederic on a humorous note. Still smiling, he listened patiently while Erik explained that that was no excuse and that Jean-Luc was very worried too!

'Oui...oui! I apologise, Erik! And to you too, mon amie!' nodded Frederic to Luc. 'I did not think that you would all be so worried!'

'Here… Let me show you what I have bought you!'

Frederic began unwrapping the cloth which protected a largish rectangular box and turned it around to face the excited little boy. Erik hesitantly opened the lid to reveal a violin! His eyes shot up to Frederic's face, he had enough trouble playing the pianoforte (though his left hand had improved so much over time). How could Frederic expect him to play the violin where they both knew that it was his left fingers that were needed to create the different notes and tones!

'It will help you strengthen your hand and fingers' explained Frederic gently, looking down at the slightly hurt bewilderment of the child. 'If you work at it, you'll be able to use your hand perfectly again.'

Biting his under-lip in an attempt to control his emotions of gratefulness and love for this young man, he gripped the precious instrument and promised to practice everyday.

'All right! Enough of that! I also bought you this and this.' Tossing him a small sack and an oddly shaped package, Frederic tried to lighten the moment.

'Ah… Luc! Don't worry, I did not forget you!' mischievously reassured Frederic as he passed his quietly observing friend his presents. 'They were just delivered to the shop this morning!'

Busily popping bonbons into his mouth, Erik turned his attention to his other present; too busy trying to unwrap the stubborn package to look at what Luc got. Luc opened the wooden box and chuckled as a bottle of very, very fine cognac was revealed. He had a very strong inkling that the drink had been brought into the country by some not very legal means, and that cheeky Frederic probably was well aware of that fact!

Opening his second gift, he deliberately exclaimed with exaggerated excitement when a box of luscious Belgian chocolates were uncovered, he drew the startled attention of Erik. Dropping a piece into his mouth, he comically savoured the delectable confection and offered the boy a chocolat. Erik looked at the gorgeously decorated treats and finally chose one. Putting it whole into his mouth, his eyes widened with delight as the bitter-sweet richness of the dark chocolate burst on his tongue. He then bit down on the chocolate as it was rather too large to enjoy in one piece and his face immediately contorted with horrified disgust. He quickly swallowed the candy much to the amusement of Frederic and Jean-Luc.

'Don't like liqueur, hmm?' teased Luc.

'Non! It is most foul!' exclaimed the seven-year-old much to the amusement of his elders. . 'It has made my mouth feel so bitter and my throat sore! How can you like such a thing?'

'It is the food of the gods! Are you sure you did not enjoy it? Here, here… Try another piece!'

Taking pity on the appalled boy, he rescued him from Jean-Luc's ridiculous threats of making him eat a piece everyday by suggesting that Erik finish unwrapping his last present. Glad to change the subject, he quickly cut through the wrapping and picked up a stuffed toy.

Staring at the bright button eyes of the stuffed animal, he exclaimed:

'I know what this is! It is a _singe_… a m-monkey! Monsieur Dubois told me about it during science class and also geography!', only remembering part-way through his sentence that he had to speak in English due to his excitement.

'Correct! It reminded me of you…' joked Frederic and the boy stuck out his tongue in retaliation.

'Quelle créature belle! I like it better than my chocolates! Let us trade!'

'Non, non! I like my monkey!'

'Don't be selfish! My chocolates are very good too!'

Clutching his toy, Erik stared at the evil glint in Luc's eye and gave a little yelp of happy terror before darting away to save his new friend. Luc winked at Frederic, let out a wicked cackle in warning and set out to chase the gleefully shrieking boy around the manoir.


	13. Chapter 13: Farewell and Goodbyes

**Happy Chinese New Year, everyone!  
恭喜发财！  
No idea if I got that right, but anywayz...  
Whoo! It's been a quite a while since I had updated, but my computer conked out on me and had to be repaired!(GAH!)  
Happy reading and hope that you enjoy this installment!**

**Chapter Thirteen**

'Be a good boy for Jean-Luc, Fitzy and your tutors, alright?' Practice your violin at least an hour a day, but you must remember to go and have some fresh air also. And don't eat so many bonbons. And eat your vegetables; don't be like that naughty Luc… So unhealthy! Ah! And don't forget to massage that ointment I gave you into your hand everyday after your bath! I have reminded Fitzy to check, so you had better do it… And….'

Frederic continued with his litany of instructions as he checked his belongings one last time before he had to leave to finally meet the man he had come such a long distance see. He tightened the straps on his leather case and nodded at the waiting footman to put it into the carriage. Jean-Luc lounged carelessly on a chair as he watched with great amusement his friend nag Erik into obedience. Nearly bursting into laughter as Erik threw him a glance of desperate plea for escape. There was no way he was going to draw Frederic's attention! He had already suffered fifteen full minutes of directions on the boy's care, as though he had not been present for the past two and a half months of Erik's stay! Gah! He was worse than any discontented wife!

Finally, sputtering to a stop Frederic suddenly swept the yelping child into his arms and hugged him fiercely. 'I'll miss you, enfant! I'll try to make it back before you leave, but I think it should be quite unlikely that I can see you before you go… I will write you in any case! I shall write you everyday, right up 'til I have to leave...' Hugging him again, Frederic swiped quickly at his eyes. 'Don't start crying! Or I shall bawl my eyes out right now!'

'But I am not crying… You are!' denied Erik whilst patting the very emotional Frederic consolingly on the head. 'I'll miss you too! Why do you have to go? Will I see you again?'

'I am not crying, don't be silly!' refuted Frederic, still hugging the boy tightly, with no sign of letting him go in the near future. 'I have to meet someone to pick up a very important plant. It is one of the rarest in the world and I have been sent to France to retrieve it.'

Setting the boy down gently, Frederic smiled bracingly at him and said:

'I don't know if we shall be able to meet each other again for quite some time as I am obligated to bring back the plant immediately to…Anyway, I promise that I shall never, ever forget you! Though we might not be able to keep in much contact, please know that I shall think of you.'

Feeling tears threatening, Erik sniffed manfully and promised to think of Frederic too and also to practice his violin, eat his vegetable and to mind Jean-Luc and not let him do anything naughty as well. Hiding his own feelings, Luc ginned sheepishly and stepped forward and to hug Frederic in farewell. Bidding him to take care of himself and promising to do the same for himself and Erik, he pried the clinging child off Frederic waist.

Frederic quickly dropped a kiss onto the boy's head and saluted them before jumping into the waiting carriage. Waving forlornly, Erik watched until the carriage rolled out of sight.

In the next two weeks, Erik received a dozen letters and several presents from Frederic. In his letters, Frederic detailed the long trip he to make to meet Monsieur Renault, telling Erik interesting little anecdotes of the people he had seen along the way and describing the places he passed through. He always ended his letters with reminders of his instructions and Erik wrinkled his little nose at his long-windedness, secretly enjoying Frederic's mothering.

By the time, Jean-Luc took him to Calais to board a ship with his step-father to England, Erik had a total of twenty-three letters, a pair of boots, a toy sail-boat, a guide book of England, several books on architecture, music and art, an extremely large box of bonbons (which was immediately hijacked by Luc), several more bottles of ointment (which was more than enough to last Erik for years) and a small (and extremely bad) drawing of himself and Frederic. Erik felt he could have given up all these, except perhaps the letters and that ridiculous drawing to see Frederic one last time.

Hugging Jean-Luc, Erik waved goodbye to the last symbol of the only happiness and security he had felt in his short life.

Life in school for Erik was hell. He was relentlessly bullied by the other boys as the masters at the school gave the gifted young protégé of the powerful Duke of Auvergne much praise and often held him up as an example to his fellow schoolmates. Because of the intensive training and classes provided by Jean-Luc and Frederic and his own natural genius, Erik excelled in his lessons and was quickly the admitted best student and singer in the school. However the other boys could not stand that the little foreign _monster_ was given so much fawning attention and admiration, that they made him the victim of constant malicious tricks and attacks.

The hatred against the stoically suffering child was so intense that the warnings and threats of the school-master could not quell the abuse and finally he made the decision to contact the boy's parents about the dire situation. After several weeks with no word, a short missive finally arrived shockingly informing the master that regrettably they could not come to see him until the end of the year and that they were sure that Erik would soon be able to make friends. Sighing in disgust at their total lack of concern, he decided to isolate the boy as best he can from the other children in hopes of protecting him from further attacks. However, it was to no avail. Erik continued suffering the jealous assaults and tried to become adept in being unseen and to dodge the kicks and blows of his peers.

Finally, the excruciating year grinded to an end and the rotund little mayor was allowed to come and see to the situation. The headmaster explained the situation to the maire and told him that for Erik's own sake, he should not continue in the school as he heard that a really serious injury would eventually be done to the boy. The maire sputtered and stuttered, trying to reason with the headmaster, knowing that Marguerite would have a fit she knew that Erik was returning to France, but the master was adamant. Sighing mournfully, the mayor took his young step-son back home.

Marguerite was incandescent with rage. Screaming like a banshee, she little resembled the sweet pliable woman she had seemed before they married. Roughly grabbing Erik she dragged him out of the house in her wake.

Three hours later, she returned to her terrified household…_alone_.


	14. Chapter 14: An Unexpected Wake Up Call

**Whoo! 28 (story) years has passed and Part 2 has finally begun!  
I had thought I would never get to write the romance...  
But don't worry, Little Erik will not be entirely forgotten!  
Please let me know what you think!**

**Part Two**

**Chapter Fourteen**

_England. 1800. _

'For Goodness' sake! I don't know why they have to have the meeting so early… The sun is not even out yet…' Irritable mutters emanated from a slight figure enveloped by a dark cloak, who was trudging grumpily along a narrow lane in a quiet residential area just outside London. 'I don't have the luxury of living around here unlike the others, so I have to get up twice as early as not to be late…'

The young woman's hood fell away as she yelped in shock and stopped abruptly as the passionate crash of a pianoforte's keys shattered the silence. 'Stupid, inconsiderate idiot! It's five in the mor-'. Lilac eyes widened and her tiredness and irritability forgotten as the 'idiot' disregarded her unheard admonishments and continued playing. She had never before _felt_ such intense emotions conveyed through any instrument. Listening intently she was swept away by the anguish and rage of the pianist, and unconsciously her fingers tightened urgently around her basket and her breaths quickened in synchrony to the pounding beats.

Feeling almost faint as the violence of the rising crescendo of the pianoforte caught her up further into the dark whirlpool of it's player's emotions when the music ended abruptly with a loud '**BANG**!'

Nearly falling over, she belatedly realised that the musician must have slammed down the lid of his instrument and not taken a gun to his audience of one. Sighing in almost painful relief and shaking her head clear from the remaining enthrallment, she looked up and stared at the only light coming from the dark, gloomy house. _Who was that? _What _was that?_

Sighing again, she ran lightly to the small heavy gate and pushed her finger through her straight chestnut locks before reaching into her basket. Glancing at the pinkening sky, she yelped in alarm.

Disappearing rapidly down the winding lane, she had left a single dark pink rose tucked into one of the ornate swirls of the gate in appreciation of the gift shared with her that dark, chilly pre-dawn day.

_Oh Lord,_ _I'm going to be late!_ _But what a wake-up call! _


	15. Chapter 15: Breakfast with Old Demons

I'll try to update again this week as I might not be able to the next because I shall going off to stay with my darling grandmother for the week and do the LNAT test... Yikes! So nervous!  
Please review!

**Chapter Fifteen**

'Couldn't sleep again, sir? I heard you playing.' enquired a slim youth putting down a heavily laden silver tray atop a beautifully carved table with the ease of long practice despite the dark interior of the room glancing automatically at the large winged armchair , strategically placed as to be cloaked in shadows.

Surprised that its usual occupant was not present, he jerked his head slightly nervously around the room in search of his employer.

'No… Last night was not a… good night.'

Only after his mysterious master had spoken could the young man spot the tall figure partially silhouetted against the room's largest window which faced the front of the house. Not that the huge number of windows were put to any good use. The only time they were left uncovered was when it was subjected to their weekly cleaning, but his eccentric employer always retreated to his rooms during those times. Curiously, he peered at the gloomy form still _parting the heavy curtains _and actually looking out. The master's thin porcelain mask gleamed in the timid sunlight and the young servant tore his eyes from that rather daunting visage to ask:

'What are you doing, sir?'

'There's something at the gate. Go and check please.'

When the boy left the room, the ghostly outline moved across the room and sprawled carelessly over his favourite chair and lifted a graceful hand to the heavy pot and poured out a stream of blisteringly hot coffee into the waiting cup.

_Ah… That was just what I needed!_

Closing his eyes, Erik inhaled the heady aroma of freshly brewed coffee and tried to shut his mind against the horrific memories which drove him to his pianoforte in any effort to drive out the demons which hunted his mind.

It was too late.

That insidious nightmare of his past slipped in again and he consciously burned his tongue with the scorching liquid in a bid to use the physical pain to mask his emotional hurts.

He failed.

_He hugged his stuffed monkey tightly against his thin chest waiting in the most horrible anticipation for his fate. He could hear _her_ screaming epithets, the clinking crash of glass breaking, the dull thuds of heavier items being hurled and the nervous baritone of a male voice trying to calm the enraged woman down. _

_Suddenly the door slammed open and the most frightening sight appeared. The child took in the flared nostrils, tight cruel twist of a mouth and such cold, cold eyes in the blotchy scarlet face before he buried his face in the chocolate fur of his only friend in defence._

_Catching sight of him, the banshee gave a scream of pure fury and started pummelling the tiny body. Pulling his hair up, she raked her clawed fingers across his raised face and then slammed it irritably against the wall when the child uttered not a word. Vengefully she knocked the little dark head against the hard wall a few more times, _wanting_ to inflict pain on the boy. **Yearning** more than anything for him to just not exist. Why couldn't he have just died when she tried to abort him with pennyroyal? Instead of killing the little monster, she was the one who suffered for weeks in agony and when the little merde was finally born, she realised that all the poison had managed to do was add to her burden by giving her a demon as a child. It was all his fault! Why couldn't he have died! Her life would have been so much better! _

_Staring at the pure hatred in his mother/stranger's eyes, he froze in fear and the next blow aimed at his head made him so dizzy he could not see, he felt almost relieved to escape that malevolent glare. Giving up trying to get a sound from him, she then roughly gripped his skinny wrist and dragged him out of the house and into beginning of his deepest nightmare. _

_Child of the Devil!_

_Demon's Spawn!_

_Satan's –_

'Sir… someone left a rose at the gate. I think it's for you.'


	16. Chapter 16:A Sweet Bribe

A rather fluffy chapter but I was ill!  
Nevertheless, I hope that you will enjoy it.  
**Much thanks to everyone who reviewed and to those who were patient enough to read my story.  
**

**Chapter Sixteen**

Trudging sleepily once again on the shadowy lane, the young woman once again made her way to her colleague's house in the pre-dawn day. Passing underneath a low hanging branch, she noted sourly that she was becoming disgustingly used to waking at ungodly hours; grumbling almost contentedly to herself, she continued along this vein until the only positive part of her early morning ramblings reached her ears.

Today's song had a distinctly militaristic flavour and her foot flexed reflexively as she unconsciously began moving in a decided march; matching the strong beat she strode along until she reached the familiar gate. Halting abruptly, she gave a professional half turn and literally faced the music. Taking out an envelope and a colourful little cloth bundle tied with a cheerful ribbon; she looped the thin red strip over the blunted points of the heavy gate and slid her note carefully into one of the narrow slots.

Smiling slightly in pleasure of the music, she marched gaily away.

Mobile lips curled slightly at its corners as he re-read the cheeky message and bit into the still-warm biscuit. He nearly moaned in delight as the bittersweet taste of dark chocolate exploded against his taste-buds and a subtle aroma of coffee liqueur slid smoothly across his tongue. Shutting his eyes, he leaned his head back against padded wing, bit off another section of the baked treat and just _savoured…_

_Dear Uriel, _

_Yesterday's song was gorgeous (as usual), but don't get a swelled head… I nearly fell over when you started playing. Did you have to begin so dramatically? Alright, I will stop whining now and admit that it wonderful. Your music is the only thing keeping me awake whilst I make that horribly long trek to my appointments at that horribly early hour. I know that you were not playing for me but I would still like to thank you for playing and sharing your magnificent gift. _

_I hope that you don't mind me naming you Uriel. I don't know your real name and I think Uriel suits you well as Uriel is the patron angel of music and literature and he is said to bestow upon us the fire of creativity. As you definitely have more than your fair share of genius, I think that it's quite appropriate! (By the way, I am absolutely green with envy as I write this. I have always wished that I could play an instrument, but, alas, I am hopeless even at whistling!) _

_Again, I thank you for your song._

_In great appreciation and envy,_

_**K.  
**(Sorry I don't know you well  
enough just yet to give you my  
full name!)_

_P/s: If you stop giving me heart failures so early in the morning, I'll give you another biscuit. _

Shaking his head slightly as he remembered the impudent message, Erik grinned and wondered what his unknown admirer would do if he pounded out one of his _louder_ pieces for her enjoyment. Perhaps something from Don Juan Tri-

The tiny quirk of amusement froze and died as he realised that his thoughts had wandered back into forbidden territory; he refused to succumb and remember! Picking up K's note, he determinedly turned his mind to deciding what tune he would play the next day in order to be able to earn his promised reward.

Not a great distance away, the young person whom Erik was distracting his thoughts with was calmly removing her rather fetching bonnet and pelisse whilst being enthusiastically welcomed by one of her society's founding members. Lady Honoura Benson was an agreeable woman of middle years and Feather had liked her on the spot; if not for Mrs Benson's sponsorship she would have been so easily accepted in to the highest and most exclusive of horticultural clubs.

'Ah… Miss Kestrel! Such a pleasure that you have joined us! It is unbelievable that a lady of your tender years would know so much about horticulture! You have truly brought new ideas and insight into our little society! Your timing could not have been more fortunate as we have just received word from one of our contacts that they are sending to us an extremely rare and prehistoric plant to us soon!'

'I really cannot wait! It's so exciting!' answered Feather whilst putting on a pair of rather disreputable looking gloves. 'Lord Ffolkes has already told me about the fern…' Carrying along on this vein, the two avid gardeners walked companionably towards the large greenhouse to join the others in discussion of the best fertiliser for a certain rare rose species.

_I wonder whether he liked the chocolate biscuits…_


	17. Chapter 17: Affligé et Dérangé!

**Sorry for the relatively late update but I had to leave home to prepare for university!  
GAH! I'm starting to become quite nervous! My First Year begins next week!**

**  
**Please read and review!

**Chapter Seventeen**

Feather couldn't believe it! Years had passed and it was in another country, but she had seen _him_. The person she hated most in the world was here in England! He had ruined her former career and nearly crippled her! He had looked quite prosperous and a large circle of ladies and some gentlemen had surrounded him and that _bastard_ was basking in their admiration. If she had known that he had anything to do with that production she would never have gone anywhere the theatre last night.

She had been frozen in her seat when the last bows were being taken and _he_ was called up onto the stage to be acknowledged for 'his wonderful chorography'. Hah! She had thought it was second-rate at best! She was so furious, even after all this time that she had stood up and stormed put of the box. Fortunately, Lady Benson had merely thought that she wanted to beat the rush and procure a hackney first. She had insisted on her own transportation thought the good lady had strenuously offered her a ride to and from the opera house.

Feather spent the rest of the night lying awake in bed. Remembering.

* * *

Face pale with exhaustion, Feather panted slightly as she made her way towards Lord Ffolkes' home for yet another meeting. _Why does that man enjoy torturing us so much? _She wiped away the cold perspiration from her throbbing head and clutched her basket and reticule tighter. Gritting her teeth, she walked with aching deliberation forward; concentrating hard to remain upright. Nearly reaching Uriel's gate, she dimly noted that there was an uncustomary silence. No music was escaping through the long heavily draped windows.

A sharp pain suddenly arrowed through her skull and she gasped loudly in anguish. Feeling her weak leg fold as her world swam and darkened in front of her bleary eyes, Feather dropped rather gracefully onto the dirt and blood spurted in a thin arc as she crashed her head against the heavy elaborate swirls of the conveniently placed gate. Her last thought before she disappeared into blessed unconsciousness was:

_I should never have gotten out of bed today. _


	18. Chapter 18: Accidents and Injuries

**Sorry for the late update... I just started first year uni last week and I've been horrendously busy buying books, going to classes, meeting (too many) new people and getting horribly lost (and missing classes). I'm absolutely exhausted!  
Here's a slightly longer chapter to make up for my neglect!**

**Please review!  
Thanks!**

**Chapter Eighteen**

'Miss…Miss…Are you alright?'

Feather blinked to clear her blurry vision and bring into focus the two anxious faces before her. _Who the devil were they? Where the devil was she? And why did her head hurt so?_

'W-where? Why?'

'You fell and hit your head outside our gate. The master saw you and brought you in; it was a good thing too! By the time we got to you, there was quite a large puddle of blood around you… But the master said not to worry as head wounds bled a lot and even though it looked like a murder scene you wouldn't be too hurt. Unless of course you had a c-con-cushion!'

'Not a con-cushion, silly!' snapped a woman who looked so similar to the voluble young man that she must be at least a relative. 'It's concussion! And stop chattering away at our patient; she needs to rest! You've been unconscious for hours. It's nearly dinner time, you know! The master was getting quite worried and it was only when he saw that you were awaking that he could bear to leave your side!'

The chastened young man perked up at that and announced quite cheerfully that he had never seen his employer so concerned about anyone before!

Probing her bandaged head wearily at this barrage of information, Feather winced and closed her aching eyes in pain.

'Here, the master said that you to have a sip of his special tonic when you awakened and to try to eat a little broth then you may have a little rest again' instructed the woman authoritatively and looked at her expectantly to open her mouth for the waiting spoon. Feather wrinkled her nose in disgust at the noxious taste and the boy grinned at her in sympathy. Feeling embarrassed and absolutely quelled at the stern look that her two nurses levelled at her when she reached out weakly to try to feed herself, she allowed herself to be fed.

Feeling absolutely exhausted by the time she satisfied them by finishing half the meal, she fell feebly back against the pillows and started to drowse off.

* * *

'Très bien, chère! You are perfection! Rest awhile for the pas de deux… I need to instruct your less gifted colleagues again! Jésus! Arabelle! Not like that! You should…'

Feather wiped her dripping face and sipped at some water before moving again to the barre to stretch her tired muscles; she could not allow herself to cool down as she had not really a very long time to rest before her very demanding ballet master would return. Her body slid easily into the oft performed movement as her mind wandered gently away into daydreams of Opening Night. First Position, Second Position, Third, Fourth… Fingertips resting gently on the gleaming wood of the barre she raised her supple leg slowly upwards until it was nearly parallel with her upright head. Ah… Six o'clock! Satisfied that her body could not be twisted further in imitation of the hands of a clock at that particular time of day, she held her position and raised herself gracefully en pointe.

'Anglais! Monsieur said to start practicing our pas de deux now!' called a dark-haired young man.

'Oui, oui! I'm coming!' Shaking her long slender muscles looser, she moved easily to her partner.

'I heard that you are going to be announced as the new prima ballerina for the company… Monsieur Jardin thinks very highly of you… I don't believe I have ever seen him so enamoured with a dancer before!'

'I am just happy that the Monsieur thinks I am good enough.'

'Good enough… Hah! He thinks you are the embodiment of the Graces and Muses combined! He has planned the next several productions around solos for you!'

'Enough, enough!' laughed Feather 'I take your point… We had better begin before we both lose monsieur's fine regard! Oops! Too late…'

'What are you two doing?' shouted their temperamental genius of a master. 'You are not here to talk but to dance!'

'Oui, monsieur… But we had just thought that it would be better if we could go the stage to practice as there are really too many people here…'

'Oh la! Fine! Go, go! I shall be there shortly…'

'Nice save!' muttered Feather under her breath as they walked companionably to the empty hall.

Climbing nimbly onto the high stage, she walked into one of the wings as Claude began his routine and waited for her cue. Ah… It was her turn now!

She took a few paces back and lightly ran before executing a dramatic Grande Jeté. All eyes were guaranteed to be on her when she entered thus on opening night… She had never dreamed that she would be able to attain her dream of being a soloist in such a prestigious company so fast! Flowing effortlessly into the dance, she twirled away and prepared for a jump. Claude nodded his head nearly imperceptibly and she took a deep breath before launching herself fluidly towards him. His strong fingers caught her rather painfully but Feather did not allow herself to wince. She had been well- trained to ignore all pain whilst dancing; her feet could be bloody and in ribbons but not a hint of it would be revealed on her smooth dancer's face.

Claude's vice-like fingers tightened even more as he held her rather precariously against him and she glanced at him quickly from underneath her lashes. She had never seen such an expression before on his face; her normally cheerful dance partner had a dark and rather terrifying look of determination in his eyes.

The strange mix of passion, hatred, regret and cold deliberation on his face was the last sight she saw before she was flung into the orchestra pit and her world rushed past her face and exploded into pain. She was trained only too well as when she opened her mouth to scream, her throat seized and the sound was silent.

'Feather, Feather! Chere… Wake up!'

Someone was patting her gently but insistently on her face. What was going on? Feather moaned and her long lashes fluttered up to blink at the blurry sea of faces gazing down worriedly at her. What's happening?

'Claude has gone for the docteur! Be still!'

'What happened? Am I ill?'

'You fell into the orchestra pit during your practice, clumsy girl' explained the monsieur gently. 'Claude said that you slipped after the Grande Jeté…'

'What? Non… That's impossible…' Feather rubbed a tired hand across her aching eyes. 'I remember now! Claude…'

Abandoning her precious training entirely, Feather shrieked as a wave of agonising pain crashed into her. The blessed numbness that comes with a shock was beginning to wear off.

'My leg! Oh my leg!'

The little company doctor rushed onto the stage followed by a very pale Claude at a much slower pace. He brushed the milling dancers aside impatiently and immediately started issuing orders at a pace that rivalled the monsieur; cloths, water both hot and cold and various other items were sent for (more to give the near-hysterical performers something to do than anything else).

'Where does it hurt, petite?'

'My leg… The left one.'

Lines of pain bracketed Feather's ashen face and when the doctor began gently probing at her leg, drops of cold sweat sprang from her forehead as she swallowed a scream of pure agony. Seeking to distract herself from the sight of her grotesquely twisted and swollen leg, she turned her head away and met the triumphant eyes of her rival, Arabelle.

Arabelle had been the most promising young ballerina in the company before her arrival, but Feather had quickly outshone her in performances and practice. Her sunny nature had quickly won her the staunch support and liking of the other dancers who preferred her to the scornful and temperamental woman. Arabelle hated Feather on sight.

Hypnotised, Feather watched even more pale-faced as a little smirk curved Arabelle's lips and she reached out a hand and drew the silent Claude to her side and laid her head on his shoulder.

And Feather just knew.

'Hold onto her!' ordered the doctor.

Gripping her leg tightly, he looked at her master grimly and said 'Her leg is broken. I need to straighten it.'

Henri and Olivier quickly grasped her arms and the diminutive doctor yanked on her damaged appendage with surprising strength and once again Feather's world exploded into white-hot pain before she descended into blackness.

'She will never dance again.'

* * *

'She finished half the bowl and took the medicine. She's sleeping now; I think she's still very weak. The poor thing is too thin!' reported Julian Winterbourne, his very able housekeeper and cook.

'Yes! She fell asleep almost immediately and she is still most dreadfully pale…' chimed in her brother Sacha who acted as his footman, butler and sometimes valet. 'Perhaps you should take another look at her, sir.'

'Yes. You may leave me now', the directive was delivered from the shadow draped armchair and the siblings nodded and began to take their leave. Almost as an afterthought, Erik halted their progress by thanking them and shook his head with a slightly bemused air when they aimed ridiculously pleased grins in his general direction. His thoughts returned to his unexpected guest and he gazed thoughtfully at basket he had retrieved at her side and the blossoms he found inside. _Was she his mysterious and wonderfully impudent correspondent?_

An anguished scream of terror broke through his musings and sent him sprinting towards the guestroom. Rushing to the shadowed bed, he was taken aback when the patient launched out of the bed and into his arms tearfully.

'I keep on falling…'

He patted her back awkwardly, unsure on how to respond to her distress. The young woman was trembling violently in fear and he drew her sheets carefully around her to protect her from catching a chill.

'It was just a dream', he tried to soothe. 'It's over now…'

'It will never be over…' she sobbed against his chest and Erik felt even more helpless and stroked her hair and back with a discomfited gentleness. _What the perdition was he to do? _He had never comforted anyone before…

Finally, she stopped crying and started hiccupping and sniffing rather inelegantly, still keeping her face buried in his shirt and Erik sat there quietly comforting her with his presence until her breaths steadied and slowed, and her head lolled gently against him. She was asleep.

Laying her head carefully upon the pillow, he tucked blankets around her again and stood gazing down at her tearstained, blotchy face with his heart clenching painfully. Turning slowly and almost unwillingly away, he shook his head with a sigh tinged with bitterness and strode to the door suddenly eager to leave. _If she could see my face she would never have sought comfort from me with such child-like trust. _His hand was halted on the doorknob when a sleepy mumble grabbed his attention.

'Thank you… You're nice…'


End file.
